The True-Lovers Good-morrow.
A brace of Valentines I here present,
Who now together live in hearts content:
These luckily did meet upon the way,
In February on the fourteenth day.
The Tune is, As at Noon Dulcina rested.
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Batchelor.
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IN the month of February,
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the green leaves begin to spring;
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Pretty Lambs trip like a Fairy,
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Birds do couple, bill, and sing;
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All things on earth,
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That draweth breath,
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In love togther then do joyn,
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Why should not I,
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My fortune try,
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And seek me out a Valentine.
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Thanks kind fate I have my wishes,
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for I have now met my dear,
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Whom I greet with honey kisses,
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her sweet sight my heart doth chear,
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My dearest love,
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And Turtle-Dove,
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O let my arms about thee twine,
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For thou art she,
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I first did see,
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Good morrow my fair Valentine.
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Maid.
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Surely Sir you are mistaken,
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for you met some other Maid,
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Young-men they are given to scoffing,
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and as much to her you said;
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Then do not stay
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Me on the way,
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with your sweet words that you do coyn
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Let me alone,
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I must be gone,
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Pray seek some other Valentine.
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Batchelor.
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If true faith may be believed,
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on you first I did set sight,
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Sweet let not my heart be grieved,
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who doth love your beauty bright,
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Oft have I wisht
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I might be blest,
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With your sweet presence for to joyn
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And ease my mind,
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Maids should be kind,
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And loving to their Valentine.
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Maid.
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SIr, to me you are a stranger,
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Maids must look before they leap
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In fair speeches oft there's danger,
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snakes under sweet flowers Creep,
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maids often find
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mens words but wind,
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The Sun shall set that bright did shine,
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after a calm,
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there comes a storm,
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Go seek some other Valentine.
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Batchelor.
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Fortune fair hath now decreed it,
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that none but you I should meet,
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Dearly I do love, believe it,
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for you are my only sweet,
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my grieved breast
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can take no rest,
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Which doth my love-sick heart conjoyn
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Love I require
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Love I desire,
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Of thee my beautious Valentine.
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Maid.
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For your affection Sir I thank you,
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being more then my desert,
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Sure I cannot be so cruel,
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to procure a Lovers smart,
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modesty
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for to deny,
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Yet from my words I may decline,
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then banish pain,
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take heart again,
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For I will be thy Valentine.
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Batchelor.
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Now thou speakest like an Angel,
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and my drooping heart revive,
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For to give thee all contentment,
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day and night i'le ever strive,
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thy courteous words,
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much joy affords,
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And thy rare beauty so divine,
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sweet let me kiss,
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my fair mistris,
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My only joy and Valentine.
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Maid.
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If you intend what you have promis'd
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and do love me as you say,
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I may yield, but if you flatter,
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I can my affection stay:
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now I am free
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as you may see,
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No man can say that I am thine,
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but being bound,
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no help is found,
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And then no more sweet Valentine.
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Batchelor.
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When I from my promise alter,
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let me then no longer thrive,
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And let nothing with me prosper,
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while that I remain alive.
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pains i'le not spare,
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but still take care,
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For to maintain thee neat and fine,
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and for the best
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that can be drest,
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Then thou shalt eat sweet Valentine.
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Maid.
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Seeing you are so kind hearted,
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I have freely given consent,
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And my love to thee imparted,
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hoping never to repent:
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i'le constant prove,
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to thee my Love,
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For I am thine, and thou art mine,
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i'le saving be,
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as thou shalt see,
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Sweet Husband, friend and Valentine.
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Batchelor.
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A thousand thousand thanks I render
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back again to thee my love,
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Who above the world I tender,
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my firm faith shall ne'r remove,
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then presently
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to Church let's hye,
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Where in Hymens band's let's joyn,
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take hand and heart,
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till death depart,
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My life, my Wife, and Valentine.
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